THE SOILED CLOAK.

Waikato Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2236, 6 November 1886, Page 2 (Supplement)

THE SOILED CLOAK.

•' Celestine J Gelatine ! wake up ! Why, wlui,t a drowsy littlo dormouse you are?' cried out Madame D'Epernay, impatiently, and the young apprentice started nervously from her slumbers in the little old rocking-chair by the work-room stove. " I—-I beg your -pardon, madam©," stammered Celestine, rubbing her- eyes. " I didn't mean to go to sleep, but it was all quiet and warm, and I just lost myself a second." 11 Humph !" said Madame D'Epernay, who, after all, possessed a stratum of pood nature down in the lower depths of her character, in spite of her brusque manner. "I'll trouble you to h'nil yourself then as quickly as possible. Here's tins opera cloak to go to Mis. Dullington, No. — Fifth Avenue, Step lively, now; it was promised at five, and it's half-past seven now ; but we couldn't get it finished before, any way in the world." Celestine Murray sprang to her feet, and folded the rusty little red plaid shawl about her slight figure. "I won't bo gone half an hour, madame,"said she. *' And you needn't como back to-night," said Madamo D'Epernay, with a lengthened yawn, as she retired into the shop, after depositing the fiat paper box in (Jeles tine's arms. "It's late, and there's no hurry." It was dark, and threatening rain— a gloomy November evening, with the gaslights flickering like yellow-stars belaud their crystal shades aud tUe wind scatterclouds of dust as it moaned along the streets. Involuntarily shivering, Celestine Murray quickened her footsteps and sped onward, wishing her errand done and herself at home. " Hold on a minute my pretty girl ! Let me carry that heavy box for you Il'I 1 ' The modiste's apprentice started back with a cry of terror. The words were hissed out close to her ear, and the light from a brilliantly-illuminated shop-win-dow streamed full across tho bold insinuating face of a man who was stooping to the level of her own eyes. Hut as he held out his hand, Olcstiuti dm ted away like an arrow from a bow. Fright lent speed to her flying feet, and she never paused until safe on the threshold of her own home. M Home !" Only a common fifth-rate boarding-house, over a corner bakery; but it was all the home Celestine Murray had. " I can get Mrs. Hodgely's son to carry the opera cloak home," thought Celestine, a? she sar.k, pale and panting, ou one of the stools behind the counter. "Dear heart, child!" said Mrs. Hodgely, emerging from behind the loaves of bread, "what's the matter? Why, you're as white as a piece of chalk. " 11 A man followed me," said Celestine. " I was going to carry this cloak to a place on Fifth Avenue, when he stepped up and spoke to me. Oh, I was so frightened ! I ran all the way home." "A young girl hadn't ought to be out alone at this hour of the night," said Mrs. Hodgely. " I thought perhaps I could get Dick to take it for me," said Cele&tine. " I was afraid to go any further- by myself." " Dick has gone to Brooklyn and won't be back to-night," said Mrs. Hodgely. " Better wait uutil to-morrow morning. Look, it's beginniug to rain, and I daresay the lady won't waut it until to-morrow morning." " Let's look at it, "said Matilda Emmett, Mrs. Hodgely's pretty sister, who helped her to "tend store." "Oh, you needn't be so gingerly about it. I shan't hurt it. Ob !0h ! Isu't it a beauty !" And she threw the delicate fabric of white cashmere, lined with suowy silk and edged with a foamy line of white swan's-down, over her shoulders, and stretched her neck to get a glimpse of her pretty figure ia the little glass in the bick room. " There, take it off !" said Mrs. Hodgely, sharply. " Pride will be the death of you yet." "Would you kindly keep it for me over- night, Mrs. Hodgely ?" said Celestine. " I've no place to look it up, and " " Yes, and welcome," said Mrs. Hodgely. " Put it in the upper bureau drawer in the parlor, Tilly, and lock it up— aud mind you keep the key yourself. I suppose you'll take it away early, Celestine ?" "The first thing in the morning, ma'am," said Celestine, meekly. Mr?. Hodgely was tired out, and retired early into her little bedroom back Of the shop. But Matilda Emmett was not so slumberous'y inclined. Long after her matron sister was asleep she stood before the glass, arranging her hair and donning a somewhat crumpled dress of Swiss muslin, whose multitudinous flounces rippled like the waves of the sea ; for the young man who kept accounts in Lisser & Co.'s big grocery store around the comer had invited her to a " hop" that night, and Matilda Emmett would have been either more or less than woman if she had not ereatly desired to make herself beautiful. " After all, I look rather second-rate," said Matilda, pouting her pretty lips. Suddenly she paused ; the colour mounted up into her cheek as she laid her hand ou the glass knob of the bureau drawer. •'I wonder if there would be any harm in it?" said she to herself. "Of course not. It's only borrowing it for just an evening ; and neither the lady whom it belongs to nor Celestine Murray need know anything about it!" Hurriedly, and with trembling fingers, she unlocked the drawer and took out the beauteous glistening garment, with its white silk tassels and its dazzling swan'sdown, and its indescribable charm of newness and purity and delicate French design. And when Mr. Leonard Popley called for her in the best hack the neighbouring livery stable afforded, his admiring glanco paid her— at least in her own estimation— for all the duplicity. " Yon are an angel, my Matilda!" he cried out, enthusiastically. "Oh, go along," was his lady-lovo's elegant repartee. " Let's be off before the evening is entirely over." Mias Emmett's career was one succession of triumphs on that eventful " Grand Soiree of the Apollo Society." Others were there in white mu3lin, blue sashes and " best imitation French flowers ;" but the white cashmere opera cloak bore away the palm from one and all. Mr. Popley was driven half mad by jealousy by the particular attentions of Mr. Onsamus Ottiwell, a militia lieutenant, in glittering uniform and a fierce dyed moustache—and Mr. Ottiwell, in his turn, was " cut out" by a young 1 man who owned a tea-store, "all of his own," as enTious bystanders remarked. Had it not been for the tea-store and the uniform, Mr. Popley mijrbt never have put affection into definite words. As it was, he proposed sandwiching 1 his lova between icecream and lobster-.vikd in the supperroom, as he took Mutilda down for refreshments. M ii»s Emmett returned home triumphant. Yet there in a bitter drop in every cup, hm! as eho folded tho opera cloak to replace it in its box, her heart sunk at perceiving a great semi circular grease apot on tho back, "It's all that odious Ottiwell,'' she cried, " elbowing up against me at the suppertable! OU dear ! dear ! what shnll I dor Perhaps no one will notice it if I fold it under; perhaps the fine lady it is intended for will think she did it hernelf." So Matilda was obliged to leave mutter*, although her conscience stung 1 her when she heard Celestine Murray go sinking off with tne pa^te-bonrd box under her arm. At noon Celestine came home pale as a ghost. "I have lost my place," said she. ' Lost your place ! Dear heart alive ! how did that happen ?" cried Mrs Hodgely, dropping a loaf of bread into a newlybaked bat^h of pumpkin pica in her amazement. "That white opera cloak got foiled somehow," said ehe. "Mi' 3 Dallington refused to receive it, and Madamo

D'Erernay declared it was all ray fault. Indeed, indeed ib was not," and poor CeleHtine burnt into tenia. Still, Matildii Emmett held her pence. Neither was it her fault, Hho told hemlf, offering vain salvo* to her consoicnee. Sh'* had intended no hiiim. Even were she to confess «he could make matters no easier for poor Celestine, Slio went awny that day on a visit to Mr. Leonard PoployV sinter, in New Haven, and was absent a mojith, making up her wedding 1 finery. When she returned she was full of nenm and gossip. 11 By tho by, where is the little dressmaking girl ?" hhe said. I may want her to trim my traveling hat. Sho always had taste." " Ci'lestino Murray ?" echoed Mrs Hodirelv. " Well, there ! Didn't I wiite you about her in my las(, leftcr ?" 14 No. Has she got another pluce ?" "She's dead," said Mr-. HoJgcly. Poor thing! she jusr. fretted herself into a dotsliuo about th'it thero plagucy. both era Honed opera cloak, and took to ooutfhin 1 , till lust week ruptured a blood-vessel. I declare I couldn't ha' felt worse if she'd boeu my own child. And you're crying 1 too, Tilly. Well, you always had a jrood heart." But honest Mrs Hodgely knew not how bitter were tho tears that plashed down from Matilda's eyep. •'My wretched folly and vanity were poor Celestine Murray's dentli," utio kept repeating to herself. "Have I indeed murdered her? Will the All-Seeing require her blood at my hands ?" In vain did she try to persuade hersplf that she waa but the victim of circumstances; that she had intended no evil; that her confession could be of no avail. Conscience would not bo blinded; and even upon her wedding-day the ghost of poor Cele^tine Murray seemed to bo rustling behind her up the broad ai-le of the church. And all her life long Matilda Emmett never felt entirely absolved from the blame and burden of Celot-tine Murray's eirly death — X.Y.Nowp.